


I begin where you end

by hakubo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demonic Possession, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Mentions of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 07:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakubo/pseuds/hakubo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I could feel that thing in my bones, trying to take over like some dark, thick, oily liquid, pushing me out--" this time it's his own panicked breathing that cuts him off and he's grateful in a way because it shuts him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I begin where you end

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gottalovev](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gottalovev/gifts).



> This is my first try at Teen Wolf and I've never seen the show so...
> 
> Not beta read, sorry, but feel free to point out mistakes.

Stiles has never in his life been so happy that his dad is at work as he is at that moment when he slams the Jeep's brakes too hard, fumbles the door open and nearly falls on his face getting out. His hands are shaking when he unlocks the front door and he drops the keys the second he's through the door, leaning back against them, trying to breathe. He can feel panic in the back of his throat but he swallows it down and trudges up the stairs and to the bathroom where he doesn't even bother stripping until he's in the shower, hot water pouring over him.

It's slow going, fear and the remnants of the adrenaline making his hands clumsy on the buttons, getting tangled in the sticky fabric. When he finally manages to get naked Stiles pushes the clothes to the corner of the tub, grabs a sponge and the shampoo and starts scrubbing. He scrubs at his skin until the ink and the dirt and the blood is washed away, scrubs long after the painted marks on his skin are gone and then keeps on going until his skin is red and raw and even the gentle touch of water stings. Stiles forces himself to stop even though he can still feel the coldness of the ink sinking into him, getting into his bones and staying there.

When he gets out of the tub he contemplates cleaning after himself but his dad won't be home until the evening the next day so he has time to hide everything. Burn everything. Dad might kill him for destroying clothes if he ever finds out , but Stiles just needs to burn everything that reminds him of tonight. Too bad he can't do the same with the nightmares that he'll most definitely have.

There's a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that don't smell too bad in the hamper and he's not feeling really picky right now. Anything is better than being naked right now. 

He brushes his teeth viciously and with his eyes closed because it's easier than facing whatever is written on his face even if there's nothing left on his skin.

Derek is standing next to his window, looking all tense and grumpy and usually Stiles would crack a joke or start talking just to fill the silence but he feels like he's used up all his words earlier, begging and screaming, so he just stares at Derek for a minute before getting in bed.

He's cold, so fucking cold, so he pulls the covers over his head even though he hates that because ha can barely breathe that way and he curls up as tight as he can and tries to warm up.He can hear Derek moving around the room, doing god knows what, but that becomes irrelevant when his skin starts itching again, a constant annoying itch that won't stop even when he starts scratching. It hurts where he managed to scrub off a layer of skin in the shower but he still scratches, tries to get the ink out, get it out out out out.

The bed dips and Derek lets all the cold air in when he if ts the covers making Stiles shiver, but he's too busy trying to claw himself to pieces. Then there's a fucking furnace that is Derek Hale pressed to his back and big, terrifyingly strong hands wrapping themselves around his wrists, making him stop and he needs, he needs--

There is a sound, something high and desperate and scared and it takes a while for Stiles to realize he's the one making it and forces himself to stop or at least make it quieter by pressing his face into the pillow, making a decent attempt at suffocation.

It doesn't work so he just breathes again, stares blankly at the wall and makes useless weak attempts at trying to break free. That too doesn't work.

"I just want them gone," he says and Derek's hands tighten to the point of pain for a second.

"They are gone," Derek says, low and certain.

"But I can still--"

"I know," Derek cuts him off and Stiles doesn't even mind, that's how messed up he is.

"I could feel that thing in my bones, trying to take over like some dark, thick, oily liquid, pushing me out--" this time it's his own panicked breathing that cuts him off and he's grateful in a way because it shuts him up and makes Derek turn him around and manhandle him into position so that he's lying on top of Derek, his face pressed to Derek's naked chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart. It's nice. It makes the panic recede when he focuses on counting the heartbeats.

Derek has one arm around his waist, holding him steady, but not still and his other hand is scratching gently at the back of his neck. He'd like to make a joke about petting being the wrong way around but he's not quite there yet.

Instead he goes with "Are we cuddling?" His tone is still off but it's better than nothing.

"Yes," Derek says. Stiles waits for something else, but Derek keeps quiet and keeps on petting him.

"Why?"

"Why not?" And Stiles is surprised, but not really because Derek killed a witch for him tonight, came to stay with him and keep him warm. Stiles can work with that.

"Okay," he says and focuses on Derek. Derek is safety and care and Stiles is fucking tired. He lets Derek keep watch and lets himself sleep.


End file.
